


A Statement of Intent

by aricaitlyn, sappy_spirit41



Category: Jet Set Radio, Jet Set Radio Future
Genre: Beat is trans and bi, Everyone is in their early to mid 20s, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, We live in a society, look we're prob never getting another JSR game so let me have my peace, trying to actually make this game as serious as it should be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-05-16 16:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aricaitlyn/pseuds/aricaitlyn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sappy_spirit41/pseuds/sappy_spirit41
Summary: After the battle against Goji at Shibuya Terminal, Beat loses a few friends, gains a few anxieties, and learns what it really means to rebel.Set two years after the events of Jet Set Radio Future (2026).





	1. To Prepare for the Unknown

Beneath a mass of blankets in a dark room, two boys slept, arms around each other in a tired grip. All was peaceful. All was calm.

A loud rumbling sound from outside shook the boys awake. The sun barely peered into the sky, slightly illuminating the dark bedroom. One of the boys, with long arms and legs and a mess of red hair, sat straight up in his bed, eyes widening to the sound. He looked out the window behind the bed and heaved a sigh of relief at the loud albeit familiar sight.

“What was it?” the other boy in the bed asked, immediately slipping back into his sleepy state.

“Just the tanks,” the redhead replied, his voice gruff with exhaustion and too many cigarettes. He pulled himself out of bed and began getting ready.

The tanks, despite being an almost-daily occurrence, still shook him to his core. He had fought too many of them, seen too many of his friends hurt or killed by the men inside, and had gotten hurt himself more times than he could count on both hands. Some scars would never fade.

The room, still dark, proved to be no challenge to him. He always laid his clothes out in the exact same spot before he went to bed, fearing that something bad could happen if he wasn’t prepared. The texture of his clothes, boots, and gloves were immediately familiar to him as he laced and fastened himself into them. He wasn’t always this meticulous though; as a teen he’d routinely grab clothes from wherever they ended up last: the floor, the laundry basket, his body as he fell asleep in them. But once he reached his early twenties something in his life just clicked, and he suddenly became organized to the nth degree. If things didn’t go as planned despite his doomsday preparations, he would excuse himself and find a quiet place to panic and eventually calm down. Rinse and repeat, and that was his daily life since the incident. He adjusted the silver belt on his high-waisted jeans and took his seat back in the chair facing the bed where his clothes sat earlier.

He pulled his wireless headphones on. They were still connected to the local radio station that he consistently listened to, but this time all he heard was static. And the time before. And the time before that. Every morning was exactly the same. He knew what happened to that DJ over at the station, so why was he still tuning in daily as if everything was back to the way it used to be?

The rustling of his boyfriend in the bed cut through the white noise and startled him. “Yoyo, you’re up.” The redhead sighed, taking his headphones off and placing them around his neck. “I was just getting ready.”

“For what?” Yoyo groaned and rolled over in bed.

The boy felt his face grow hot, turning almost as red as his hair. “Well, y’know, I thought maybe I’d-"

“Maybe you’d what?”

Another deep sigh emerged from the redheaded boy, now beginning to hang his head. “Nothing. Just go back to bed.”

Instead, Yoyo pulled the covers off his bed and turned on the lamp at his bedside. It wasn’t much light, but certain corners emerged from the darkness. A quick scan around the room showed a myriad of objects: posters of bands and certain pseudo-inspirational quotes; old photos of friends before they were hurt or killed by the police; a clunky TV on the floor with antennae connected to a video game console that may or may not work; two pairs of in-line skates, collecting dust in a corner; clothes on Yoyo’s side strewn across the floor and clothes on the boy’s side hung up neatly or contained in a small dresser.

“Beat, come over here. Talk to me, yo,” Yoyo said, sitting up on the bed.

Beat stood up from the chair he’d used to get ready and took a seat on the bed next to Yoyo.

“I’m checkin’ in with you, okay?” Yoyo asked, running his hands through Beat’s shaggy red hair. “Hmm. Let's see. You’re _well_ overdue for a haircut.”

“I’m growing it out,” Beat replied.

Yoyo sniffed. “Yuck. And maybe a shower, too. Let’s see… how are you feeling this morning?”

“Not great.”

“Why’s that?”

Beat ran his hands through his hair, a bit of a nervous habit he’d developed ages ago. “Got woken up by the tanks again.”

Yoyo scoffed lightly. “That happens all the time. I always just go back to bed."

“That means we have to stay inside today,” Beat replied.

“I know that. Why did you get dressed, then?”

“I really don’t know exactly,” Beat said, shrugging. “I told you that after that whole fight with Goji, and after the-” He stopped himself. Yoyo knew exactly what he meant. “I just feel like I have to make sure everything’s in line now. When we were GGs, I just messed everything up because I was so… messy.”

“That really doesn’t make any sense,” Yoyo said.

Beat slunk down into the bed, feeling the cool sheets graze his arms. “It doesn’t make logical sense to me, either. But I do it. I know I have to. Or I just feel sick and nervous.”

“Everything is going to be okay,” Yoyo replied, laying back down to face his boyfriend. He was right. He always was. “We’ve got each other, right? And that makes sense.”

Beat felt his lips curl up into a smile. He said nothing.

Yoyo grinned. “I just want to make sure you’re doing okay. I know we talk every day, but we've just been through a lot of shit.”

“I appreciate that so much.”

“I’m glad.” Yoyo tapped a finger to his chin. “Um, let’s see… Did you take off your binder before you went to bed?”

Beat groaned. “ _Dammit!_ No, I didn’t. I slept in it.”

“Honey, you’ve gotta stop doin’ that! What if you crack a rib or something?”

Beat sighed. “I know, I know. I need to shower too, so I might as well kill two birds with one stone.” He began pulling off his shirt.

“Kill two rudies with one cop?” Yoyo muttered, staring at Beat’s undressed torso.

Beat smirked. “Too soon, dude.” But it hadn't been too soon - it had been two years.

Yoyo felt himself begin to chuckle. Sure, the incident was traumatic, but at least they could kinda look back and laugh at it. Being in a police state like this wasn’t all bad; at least they had freedom of speech (to a degree).

It wasn’t like Yoyo hadn’t experienced his fair share of the trauma, too. He was kidnapped and replaced by a robot, and the only person who seemed to notice he was gone was Beat. Beat had risked his life to rescue Yoyo, skating through the maze that was the fortified residential zone. From that point, they went from friendly rivals to boyfriends, and neither of them ever looked back.

The sound of the shower faucet turning on gave Yoyo a sense of reassurance that Beat was taking care of himself. Since the incident with Goji, Beat had been acting… different. It wasn’t the worst thing for sure, but it added a lot of baggage and tension to the new relationship. Beat had already been through a lot - having a tyrannical madman of an estranged father who wants you dead is already enough to ruin your life.

Yoyo wondered if maybe Beat should see a doctor about his nervous habits, like the constant organizing and panic, but being practically homeless and a former enemy of the state makes it hard to get healthcare taken care of. Thankfully, Beat was lucky enough to know friends skilled in theft, who supplied him with testosterone, “medical” marijuana, and enough cigarettes to choke a horse. That, at least, alleviated a bit of his nerves.

In the shower, Beat felt the lukewarm water hit his hair, which was long enough to cover his eyes at this point. God, he needed a haircut so bad, but he was starting to like the longer style. Having cut his own hair himself as a teen, he didn't care about anything besides just getting it as short as he could. Now that he was older and feeling a bit more comfortable in his skin, he was free to experiment with his style. Maybe the longer hair would render him unrecognizable, too, so maybe that piece of shit father and his policemen wouldn't stop him on the street as often.

Unfortunately, ditching his skates made it harder to run from the police. He wasn't used to running on foot, especially not in his new leather work boots that he barely got the chance to break in. There was something about him they still recognized, but he could never place it. Maybe he'd never know.

He turned off the water and dried himself off, pulling himself back into his clothes. He dressed differently since the incident, too, ditching his gloves and bright green shirt for a muted blue tank top and darker blue biker gloves. He took a good look at himself in the mirror, really taking in the details of his face. As he aged, he noticed his face became more angular, more masculine, but had still been dotted with freckles for as long as he could remember. The tiniest dots of stubble grazed his chin and upper lip, which made him smile.

His hair, despite being wet and clinging to his head, was finally clean for the first time in at least a week. He couldn't remember. His old short hair could withstand so much more than a week of not being washed. But now? His thick, burgundy hair almost had a waviness to it, and all his female friends begged him to take good care of it. They'd never seen him with such beautiful wavy hair. He could stand to bleach his roots, though. His natural black hair was dangerously creeping in, an unrequited genetic gift from his Japanese father.

Beat emerged from the shower and greeted his friend Corn, who sat on a recliner in the garage.

"The garage" was less of an auto garage and more of a spot in the ghettos of town that Corn was able to buy after the incident. It was a hole in the wall, and it wasn't perfect, but it was home to the GGs for most of their adolescence. Corn was a self-styled genius who customized skates, built robots, and wrote computer programs in his spare time. Corn was a former rich kid living off the money his parents gave him for college. Instead of attending school, Corn moved to the city and invited as many rudies as he could to live with him, as many of the skaters he had met were in tight spots or homeless.

"Morning," Beat said, taking a seat on the couch and pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

"Those tanks wake you up, too?" Corn asked, taking a sip of the cheap coffee he'd bought from the corner store every morning. Corn's long bleached hair was tied into a messy bun, and he was still wearing pajamas.

Beat nodded. "I just want one night of peace. But hey, now I have an excuse to stay inside and do nothing." He forced a fake laugh and lit his cigarette.

"Something's gotta give," Corn muttered. "One day, those cops are gonna crack."

Beat crossed his legs in the seat and took a long drag on the cigarette, feeling the familiar smoke fill his lungs. "I doubt it. I heard these guys are tougher."

"How so?"

"Well, let's see. They conceal carry  _everything_ but a gun. So you don't know what they have."

Corn smirked. "That's never stopped you before. I've seen you rush towards tanks and flamethrowers, through tear gas, and straight into moving vehicles, like nobody's business."

Beat pulled his knees to his chest. "It's different now. I'm not a stupid little teenager anymore. I don't just run out and spray people in broad daylight. I could _seriously_ get hurt!"

There was a long pause before either boy spoke again. Beat made it halfway through his cigarette.

"I just worry about you, Beat."

"Why's that?"

"Do you hear yourself right now?" Corn began to chuckle. "You're scared of everything now. You've gone soft."

Beat crossed his arms defiantly. "I have not gone soft!"

" _Y_ _ou fold your clothes,_ Beat!" Corn kept laughing. "I have  _never_ known you to do that!"

Beat stood up. "Whatever." He put out his cigarette and stormed back to his room, slamming the door behind him. Corn just shrugged, finishing his cheap coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey uh trying something new... lmk what you guys think or if I messed anything up...  
> I've never written anything trans related so if I messed up pls let me know!! I want to represent this story and this idea as best I can, it's something I see a lot of headcanons for and I think it's a great hc for Beat!


	2. 'Bout the City

"I can't believe Corn would say that about me!" Beat yelled, nearly shaking Yoyo out of bed.

Yoyo groaned and rolled over onto his back. "Dude. I was almost back asleep. Chill."

Beat balled and unballed his fists, taking a deep sigh. He took a seat on the bed. "I don't think he understands that I'm trying to  _save_ our asses by not running out in the middle of a police raid."

"It's not your place to call the shots anymore," Yoyo replied. "Corn's in charge. He's been in charge for awhile, actually..."

"Well, why does the guy in charge think that we should risk our lives again? Why does he think the cops are gonna drop the act? It's only getting harder and harder for all of us."

Yoyo sighed. "I... I don't know. He's just trying to be positive, I guess."

"Being positive is what hurt us when Goji built that tower. Being positive is what killed DJ K and some of our friends," Beat muttered, his head in his hands. It had been two years, and sure, he was still pretty on edge about the situation, but why wasn't Corn understanding basic concepts of safety? Why was trying to be safe and smart about things making him suddenly seem "soft"? The white noise, leftover remnants of Jet Set Radio, still played faintly from his headphones, which hung over the back of the chair.

"Well, it's not like he was asking you to rush out there, right?"

Beat paused. "That's true. But I feel like he wanted someone to do _something_."

"If he wanted something, he'd ask pretty clearly, yo. Corn always speaks his mind," Yoyo replied.

"That's true," Beat repeated.

Yoyo leaned over and gave Beat a kiss on the cheek. "It'll be alright. You da man, yo," he said, chuckling.

Beat began laughing, too. "You really haven't changed since we met, huh?" He felt himself lean back into the bed, his hand caressing Yoyo's cheek.

Yoyo continued to laugh. "Same boy you've always known, yo!"

The two pulled each other into a hug. Since Beat was so tall and wiry and Yoyo was short and somewhat bulky, their hugs often looked mismatched, but holding each other felt like the last two pieces of an impossibly hard puzzle. 

The two boys turned to stare at the ceiling, where Beat had stuck an array of glow-in-the-dark plastic stars. The sun had risen, so the stars no longer shone their bright green hue, but they were still there at all hours of the day. It brought both boys a sense of comfort, knowing that was something in their lives that would never change.

"You remember the day we met?" Beat asked.

Yoyo smirked. "Of course I do. And I remember how hot and bothered you made me."

Beat punched Yoyo playfully. "Don't say that. Makes you sound like some old lady."

Yoyo punched right back. "Hot and bothered," he repeated. He put his fists away, tucking them behind his head. "But, for real, I think you were my bisexual awakening."

"For real?" Beat asked, placing his head on Yoyo's chest. Of course he knew that, but he clung onto every word Yoyo said.

"Hell yeah, dude," Yoyo replied, running his fingers through Beat's now clean hair. "I mean, duh, you were intimidating, but in, like, a sexy way."

"Me? Intimidating?" Beat scoffed at the thought. "And  _sexy_? Don't make me blush." He thought back to how dorky he looked back then - gigantic headphones and goggles, spikes on the sleeves of his shirt, and the shortest bangs he'd ever had. But he knew those questionable fashion choices didn't stop his boyfriend from falling head over heels in love.

"Well, how else is a boy supposed to feel when a five-foot-seven enemy of the state is staring me down and challenging me to a race?" Yoyo asked rhetorically.

"Five-foot- _eight,_ " Beat corrected. "I was still growing then."

"At nineteen?"

Beat nodded. "Mm-hmm. And to answer your question, you were supposed to feel like you couldn't beat me in a race."

"But I did."

"By the skin of your teeth!" Beat replied.

Yoyo scoffed, pretending to be offended. "Well, if it wasn't for all the hip checks you did when you passed me, it woulda been a breeze."

"Ah, yes." Beat grinned. "My signature move."

The two boys began laughing and continued to reminisce, all while looking up at the ceiling full of plastic stars.

* * *

Outside, it began to rain. The soft pattering on the tin roof soothed Gum as she laid in her bed, eyes traveling around the room she'd illuminated with fairy lights. She'd been in bed all day, drifting from sleep to being wide awake and back again. Lord knows what time it actually was. She sat up and stretched, pushing blankets off her body.

Gum peered out the window and was surprised to see a severe lack of tanks. She was confused; surely their low rumbling through the streets of Shibuya had woken her up, right? If not for the rain, she wouldn't hesitate to slip outside in a pair of skates, just like in the good old days.

Suddenly, she was struck with an idea. If she dressed as plainly as possible (which would be hard, but could be done), the streets could be her playground again. Maybe the others would want to join her, too.

Gum grinned as she pulled a black sweatshirt over her dress. She grabbed her in-line skates and headed to get the others.

* * *

A fast knock on the door startled Beat and Yoyo, who were more than preoccupied at this point.

Beat groaned and pulled the blanket over his chest. Yoyo began to stand up and head towards the door.

"Put some clothes on before you answer that door," Beat said. "I know we all live together, but Jesus."

Yoyo nodded and pulled his clothes on. The knocking persisted, only getting louder.

That annoying knocking couldn't belong to anyone else. "It's Gum," Beat muttered.

"Gum!" Yoyo repeated, greeting the girl as he answered the door. "What's goin' on, yo?"

Gum grinned and gestured to her skates. "The tanks rolled through to someplace else. Wanna skate with me?"

Yoyo nodded. "I'd be down! How about you, Beat?"

Gum peered in, and Beat only pulled the blankets further up to his neck. "Uh, no thanks," he stuttered.

"You sure? I think the rain is stopping, too, and if we dress in plain clothes -"

"I said no thanks," Beat repeated.

Yoyo laughed nervously, hoping to lighten the mood. "Lemme get my skates real quick."

"Okay," Gum replied.

Yoyo inched towards his side of the room and began haphazardly tossing clothes across the room until he found his old yellow skates. His smile grew as he strapped them on, and he half-walked, half-skated out the door. "See ya later, Beat! Love you!"

"Love you, too," Beat whispered, but it was too late. Yoyo was gone.

Beat sighed, feeling the cool sheets engulf him. He didn't want to worry - his friends went out skating as often as they could despite the incident and the growing number of police crackdowns. But the thought of losing more friends to the police left him feeling absolutely hopeless. The best he could do was send a barrage of messages to their wrist communicators, but he didn't want to feel annoying.

He hadn't planned for this. His best intentions had failed him yet again. Failing was all that he was good at, and it just hurt the friends he cared about. He was failing Yoyo by not being mentally stable; he was failing Corn by going soft; and he was failing himself for not breaking the cycles he'd slipped into. It was all too much, and thinking too hard gave him a headache.

But he had a way to remedy that. Beat laid on his stomach and reached under the bed, feeling around for something familiar. He found what he had been looking for finally - a half-drunken bottle of rum that he routinely hid from Yoyo.

With a motion all too familiar, Beat flipped the cap open and tilted his head back.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ya... stuff is beginning to happen...  
> I just gotta say I'm rly glad this fandom is so small but only because that makes it easy for this to be noticed. Coming from big fandoms is such a culture shock, weirdly enough. Thanks to yall that are reading and enjoying this so far! Again, let me know if anything looks weird or is written wrong!
> 
> Playlist for this fic: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6Ozimdq9rtxVJXJYeHKbZn?si=u55P8h9oQTi9tb3K0gRahQ


	3. Sneakman

It had been too long since Yoyo had gone out skating. He grinned, feeling the cool breeze hit his face and run through his long green hair.

Gum caught up to him, hopping to the left to grind a rail leading up a staircase. She smiled as she slid down, picking up enough momentum to hop to the next rail. Since her skates were magnetically charged with netrium batteries, they clung to nearby metal surfaces, making grinding feel even more impressive. These skates, originally a pipe dream of Corn's, became a reality once he started hanging out with the rudies, who had great ideas for skate-related inventions but no way to put them together. As soon as he figured out how to work on in-line skates, he insisted on modifying everyone's for free.

Gum felt her grin growing wider as she thought about Corn. He was just so smart and cool, and she couldn't have wished for a better best friend.

She completed the loop around the rails with a spin, and gracefully landed atop an unfamiliar building. She stopped suddenly and looked down, feeling uneasy. Yoyo was nowhere to be seen at this point. She was easily several stories up, on top of someone's balcony. Her fear of heights, while typically kept under control, was beginning to return like an unwelcome guest. Gum took a moment to regain her bearings and leaned against the railing of the building, scanning it. Facing her was a large sliding-glass door with a view into a living room. It looked fairly high-class, as if someone with a lot of money lived there.

 _I don't know anyone around here rich enough to live there,_ Gum thought.  _Must be some stranger._

Not wanting to invade the private life of a complete stranger, Gum began looking around for the best way to leave the balcony, until the stranger living inside knocked on the door to get her attention. Pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her eyes, Gum leaned back and faced the man, startled by the sudden sound.

Something about him was familiar. He was tall and thin to the point where he looked sickly. His slicked-back white hair stuck out in the back, and he wore a long blue overcoat. Gum gasped at the realization.

"Wait," the man said, opening the door.

Gum took a few steps back until she felt the balcony railing brush up against her legs. "W-why should I?" she stuttered. Up until this point, she had been fearless, and she had faced him head-on more times than she could count. Was it the fact that this man, as far as she knew, still worked directly under Goji?

The man in question was Captain Hayashi, and he stepped out, closing the door behind him. Something about his demeanor was odd. Here he was, a man with a reputation for being ruthless and downright batshit crazy, but he stood with the posture and manners of a completely normal human being. His hands laid at his side, empty and shaking.

"You're the only person I can talk to about this," Hayashi continued. "Well, one of the only people. Where are the rest of your friends? Don't you guys always go skate in a group?"

Gum hesitated and winced, suddenly remembering that Yoyo had gone off to God knows where. "I'm not sure. It was just me out today," she finally responded, hoping that would satiate the captain. She pulled off her hood.

"Okay. Well, I wanted to talk to you about something. Come inside." Hayashi gestured for Gum to come into his apartment.

Reluctantly, Gum dragged her feet and kicked her skates off by the door. What could he mean by that? This was the first interaction she'd had with Hayashi where he wasn't chasing her with a gun, calling her a punk and laughing maniacally. Something felt wrong, but she couldn't place her finger on it. She was trying to be fearless and brave despite everything in her gut telling her not to. She didn't want to miss out on life, huddled in fear and neurotic, but she didn't want anything bad to happen either.

"Take a seat," Hayashi said, motioning to a chair in his dining room. He took a seat facing her and pulled out a large file folder.

"What's this about?" Gum asked, looking down at the folder.

Hayashi sighed. "I'm quitting the police force."

Gum said nothing, but chuckled nervously a bit.

Hayashi cocked an eyebrow. "You think I'm joking," he muttered.

"Nah, it's just that, well, you're  _Hayashi._ You're the guy that made us tremble in fear."

"I  _was_ that guy," he corrected. "Thinking back to the way I took the law so seriously made me sick. It wasn't until recently that I realized how violently the state treats punks- uh,  I mean, skaters." Hayashi opened the file, which contained his former badge, along with an array of paperwork. Gum barely scanned the papers as the captain flipped through them, but picked up on words like "mentally unstable" and "questionable".

"I joined to enforce the law," he said softly, almost sounding disappointed in himself. "But it feels like, well, the law enforced me. They made me into somebody that I didn't want to be - a man with a one-track mind. I didn't know what I was getting myself into."

Gum thought for a few seconds before she spoke. "Why should I trust that you're telling the truth, though? Are you still a man with a one-track mind?"

"I want to be a man with an open mind. I want to work for the greater good," Hayashi replied. "I know I can't make reparations. I've done too much harm."

"I lost some friends," Gum muttered. "That's more than just harm. I would think someone who wants the 'greater good' would know that."

Hayashi put his head in his hands. "I'm more than aware. Gum, it haunts me. It's haunted me for two years."

The two were silent before Hayashi spoke again.

"I know you and your friends well enough to know you can destroy this." Hayashi handed Gum the file folder. "Destroy it _all_."

"How?" Gum asked, suddenly kicking herself for asking such a stupid question. The GGs were masters of destruction with the right tools, and these files in their hands wouldn't last a second.

Hayashi scoffed. "The best way you guys know how. Paint it. Burn it. Do something. I just thought that my old reputation deserved a death most honorable."

And without another word, he smiled that familiar wide smile as he escorted her out the door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey umm weird chapter? Short chapter? Shit is going down...  
> Sorry if it feels like I'm writing cop propaganda or smthn trust me I hate hayashi as much as the next guy. ACAB  
> Planning on doing some sketches for my designs of the GGs, they're all a lil older so they dress pretty differently.  
> Thanks to yall for reading, it makes my heart jump for joy


	4. Oldies but Happies

One foot in front of the other usually wasn't this hard, but on a total whim, Beat had decided to go for a walk. With a red bandanna pulled over his mouth and his head hanging down, he was sure to be unrecognizable, just in case someone stopped him on the street. Now if only he could walk in a straight line.

He wasn't  _that_ drunk, or so he thought. He was thinking pretty clearly, clearer than he usually was. There wasn't a lick of anxiety clouding his thought process. For once he felt pretty good, and it was refreshing to breathe in the fresh air.

Strangely enough, Shibuya Terminal was bustling. It felt like he had stepped back into the past. City folk walked in and out of restaurants and cafes, laughing and carrying on with their lives. Buses ran as they always did, still bearing the remnants of rival gang graffiti. Not skating around this place was weird to say the least. On foot, Beat almost felt like he could assimilate into society and not stick out like a sore thumb, skating through a crowd and causing terror.

As he walked, his eyes wandered from building to building, scanning all kinds of places he'd never visited, despite living in this city for years. A shoe store. A restaurant. An office building, towering over the others.

And something else he'd never noticed before.

Beat took a closer look, facing the building. It was made of brick and looked as if it had been partially destroyed. Wooden boards, still dripping with the afternoon's rain, stood in place of a proper door. He couldn't see much inside due to the lack of light, but he saw the walls inside were a faded blue, accented with white stripes, and looked as if they were made of some strange foam-like material.

He took a deep breath. Exploring an abandoned building was a pretty stupid idea, but something about it seemed familiar. It gave him a strange sense of deja vu, despite having never stepped inside in his life. 

Either the boards over the door frame weren't that low, or Beat had fairly long legs. Either way, he gulped and put one leg through.

* * *

 

"Where are you, yo?"

Yoyo skated down a dead end, eyes darting from left to right. "Gum?"

He wasn't sure what had happened. First, they were skating alongside each other, then she had jumped somewhere and vanished. Yoyo didn't want to panic. He knew she was most likely safe, but there was no way to know for sure. She wasn't answering her wrist communicator.

Maybe some of Beat's anxiety had rubbed off on Yoyo. Yeah, that was it. Gum was totally fine. Wherever she was.

As if on cue, Yoyo's communicator vibrated. He tapped the screen to reveal a message from Gum.

 _Heading back to the garage now,_ the message read.  _Sry to worry you._

Yoyo heaved a sigh of relief, thankful that she had confirmed her safety to him.

Another message appeared from Gum.  _I found something._

Yoyo raised an eyebrow.  _What?_ he typed.

Instead of answering, Gum replied, _You can't show Beat._

 _What did you find?_ Yoyo feverishly typed. No response. He turned on his heel and began skating back to the garage.

* * *

 

Beat had made it into the building without a hitch. Using his wrist communicator as a light, he scanned the room. It looked a lot like a studio, which was strange. Why would a studio feel so familiar? He had never been inside one.

A rustling noise from behind him made him jump, and he flashed his light towards the source of the sound. "Who's there?" he asked, almost sounding frustrated.

A girl with black hair winced, covering her eyes with her free hand. Her other hand helped cradle a cardboard box under her arm. "It's just me, dude," she replied monotonously. She set the box down on a nearby counter.

Beat covered the light on his communicator. "Sorry, Cube." He laughed nervously, pulling off his bandanna. "Not trying to blind ya."

"I haven't seen you around, Beat. What's up?" Cube began opening the box and investigating what was inside.

Beat leaned against the wall, feeling his center of balance deteriorate. "Not much. Taking a bit of a drunken walk and I thought I'd check this place out."

Cube smirked. "You're drunk?"

"A little bit," Beat replied. "Could be worse."

"And  _how_ old are you?" Cube asked. She was a bit older than him, and used that as leverage to keep him safe and responsible. Sure, rudies would be rudies, but underage drinking and smoking were bad ideas no matter what.

"Twenty-one." Beat grinned. "Old enough."

"Right," Cube responded, her voice muffled from inside the box. She gasped and pulled something out. "Check this out!"

Beat looked up at what she held. "Just a CD," he muttered. "What's the deal?"

"A  _Rob Zombie_ CD," Cube corrected. "Only the greatest musician of all time!" She turned it over and took a glance at the track list, her smile growing. "Oh, these are all good."

Beat didn't know where to start. Here was Cube, a friend he hadn't seen for awhile, and she was just rifling through stuff she found in an abandoned building like nobody's business.

"I know what you're thinking," Cube began, disregarding the box and flicking on a light switch Beat hadn't noticed.

Suddenly, the room was washed in humming, fluorescent lights. Despite being abandoned and partially destroyed, most of what was inside was still in perfect condition, despite a thick sheet of dust covering it all. A DJ booth and an array of technology filled the room. The foamy material was, in fact, sound-proofing foam. A poster featuring a green-and-yellow logo, reading  _Jet Set Radio,_ was pinned to the wall behind the booth.

Beat felt his stomach drop. He clenched his fists and looked down.

"You're thinking, what am I doing here at Jet Set Radio?" Cube continued, not even noticing how Beat suddenly looked sick to his stomach. "Well, ever since I heard about what happened to DJ Professor K, I thought I'd try to do something with all this stuff. Maybe redo this space."

Beat had nothing to say. Tears welled up in his brown eyes.

Cube continued rummaging through the box. "Y'know, I actually had a pipe dream about taking over the station. What would you think of that? I know you really miss hearing his mixes every day, and better late than never, right?" She moved closer to him, but suddenly stopped when she saw his face. "Something wrong?"

"No," Beat lied. "Well, yeah, actually."

Cube sat down on the dirty linoleum floor and gestured for Beat to do the same. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe a little," Beat admitted, taking a seat next to her.

* * *

The door to the garage flew open, startling Corn, who was preoccupied with some video game. He paused the game and stuck his head up. "Hey, Gum. What's up?"

Gum smiled and took a seat at the table wordlessly. "I've got something you might want to see."

Corn's ears perked up. He took a seat next to her and pointed at the manila folder she'd set down on the table. "What's this all about?"

Gum opened the folder, revealing the shining silver badge atop a sea of paperwork.

"Captain Hayashi's file," Corn read. His eyes flitted back up to hers. "Oh my god, Gum. I have so many questions right now."

"Ask away," Gum said smugly.

"How did you get this? When? Why?" Corn sputtered. "I'm just in shock."

"Imagine how I felt, ending up on his balcony."

" _What?"_

Gum sighed. "Let me explain."

* * *

"I don't want to be upset with you, Cube. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry," Beat sobbed. He wasn't one to cry in his teens, but when he became more high-strung and neurotic as an adult, he also became more emotional. The lump in his throat fluctuated in size as he spoke. "Just realizing what this place used to be makes me feel like I'm going to be sick."

Cube put an arm around him, an almost motherly gesture she'd mastered since befriending the younger GGs. "Why's that?"

"This was DJ Professor K's studio," Beat said matter-of-factly, as if she hadn't known. "You knew that, of course. But he was such a special person to me."

Cube nodded solemnly. "I know how you feel. We all miss DJ K."

Beat tried to hold back and not snap at her, but it was no use. "You really don't."

Cube was silent and retracted her hand. "Sorry."

"No, it's... It's whatever." Beat coughed. "I never told anyone how much of a father he was to me."

"Really?"

Beat nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of a long story. And knowing where I came from makes me feel awful."

"Beat, you know I'll listen. We aren't that close, and we used to be rivals, but, well, I care about you a lot. And I'm genuinely interested." Cube returned her hand to his back. "But if it's too much to retell, don't make yourself feel worse, okay?"

"Okay," he replied, wiping his tears with his bandanna. "It all started when I was fifteen."

* * *

"Whoa." If possible, Corn's jaw would be on the floor.

"I know, right? It's crazy," Gum replied. "I'm not sure I should believe Hayashi, but-"

" _I was right!_ " Corn yelled victoriously. "I  _knew_ those cops would chill at some point!" He stood up, clutching the file as if it was the love of his life.

"I'm gonna take it all with a grain of salt," Gum said. "Hayashi's one bad dude, right? So why should I believe him immediately? 'I killed people, Gum, but I promise I'm gonna change!' It just seems ridiculous to me."

Corn slapped the file down and faced her. "Gum, I'm smart. I know things."

"Too smart for your own good, I'd say."

"And it's like a domino effect, y'know?" Corn continued, ignoring her remark. "Hayashi goes down, and everything else falls into line. Goji's reign of terror ends. The police go back to actually, well, dealing with  _real_ crimes. And we'll never have to worry about anything again!"

Gum sighed. "Like I said, taking it all with a grain of salt. Besides, we don't know until we actually  _see_ him change his behavior. But for now, we can destroy these files."

Corn nodded, an uncharacteristically devilish grin making its way onto his face. "And I know the best way to do it."

* * *

Beat ran his hands through his hair when he was nervous or feeling overwhelmed, and telling Cube this story made him feel those emotions almost up to eleven. What felt like handfuls of wavy burgundy hair slipped through his fingers, some strands falling down and decorating the floor.

"When I was fifteen, I tried to come out to my father. My father is Rokkaku Goji, by the way," Beat began.

"Oh, shit. I had no idea," Cube replied. "So  _that's_ why you were so adamant about trying to take him down."

Beat nodded. "I hate that old bastard. He's been nothing but a piece of shit to me, putting me down for my interests, my style, my sexuality and gender... I was having enough. Anyway, I tried to come out to him as transgender, and you know what he did?"

"What?"

"Well, he definitely guilted me out of it. He said if I was now his 'son', I'd be next in line to lead the Rokkaku Group. And that just made me want to puke." Beat actually felt a bit sick at the thought of it. "I mean, he somewhat accepted me to a point. But he never got me the help I needed to deal with, well, gender stuff, and I just felt so pressured about the idea of being next of kin that I told him I was joking. I wish I hadn't done that. I kept wearing my old clothes and pretending to be his _daughter_."

"Oh my God," Cube said softly. "No wonder you ran away."

Beat nodded. "Exactly. I found solace on the streets, skating away and listening to music. I bleached my hair and dyed it red and cut it as short as I could. I looked like shit, but I was _happy_. I made friends who actually cared about me and treated me like a guy. I met a boy that I fell in love with immediately. And I found a father figure in the weirdest place." He gestured his arms around the room. "I felt like I was free to be myself for once in my life. And it felt amazing."

"DJ K was the coolest dude I'd ever met," Beat continued. "He helped me so much when I felt hopeless. He kept me off the streets and actually listened to me when I talked to him. He showed me the coolest music I'd ever heard. And he was able to steal all kinds of things like nobody's business." Beat smiled, remembering all the good times. "Without him, there's no way in hell I'd be comfortable in my own skin. I owe it all to him, the father I never had. And then he was killed. So I'm sorry if I acted a bit... distraught when you talked about taking this place over."

Cube felt tears welling up in her eyes, too. "Beat, it's totally okay. I'm glad we talked." She pulled him into a tight hug. "Also, 'distraught' is the biggest word I've ever heard you use. I'm so proud."

Beat began to laugh a bit. "I have a word-a-day calendar," he joked.

Suddenly, his wrist communicator began to vibrate.

"What's up?" Cube asked, glancing over at his wrist.

 _Bonfire at the garage,_ the message read. It was from Corn.

"Well, I should probably head back," Beat sighed, standing up. For once, he actually felt pretty okay. The drunkenness had worn off, and sometimes just getting a good cry out was more than enough to refresh him. "Do you... wanna come with?"

"I'd love to!" Cube replied. She grabbed the Rob Zombie CD and followed him through the boarded door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hee hee a long chapter to balance out the last short chapter! I'm worried this is kinda going to shit though I'm gonna be real. Let me know if this suddenly sucks or seems out of character, and as always, thanks for the kudos and comments!! They keep me goin in these tough times.  
> Some notes: I always imagined their wrist communicators/radios almost like a modern smart watch, but since this is a Y2K-era future, it's probably comparable to an early PDA (Pocket Digital Assistant). They don't elaborate much on the tech in the games, and I think JSRF took that aspect away from the character designs, but I imagine they had some way to communicate with each other, DJ Professor K, and the radio station. Think 2004 in terms of technology here - their TVs still have antennae but headphones are wireless and radios can be worn on the wrist.


	5. That's Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shabba dum dwee dum dum dwee oo yeah oo yeahhhh  
> Shoulda put this earlier but alcohol/addiction mention!! Also some arguing but no spoilers!!

Empty cans of spray paint lay at Corn and Gum's feet as they tossed Hayashi's well-painted, thoroughly-unreadable documents into the empty fire pit. Not only were they going to burn it all, but they felt obligated to attack the documents with spray paint beforehand.

"I'm sorry, environment," Corn sighed, flicking a lighter. The flames licked the corner of one of the papers, and he dropped it into the pit. Immediately, the documents were ablaze and the god-awful scent of burning paint filled his nose. He nearly jumped at the sudden growth of the fire.

Gum covered her face. "Well, the cans _do_ say 'highly flammable' on the sides. But I don't know if that's referring to the aerosol or the actual paint inside." She bent down, studying the label of a can.

"True, but still..." Corn looked down, studying the flames that had shrunk in size.

Gum smiled and stood back up. "I think it's a great fire, regardless of the fact that we're practically huffing burning paint right now. Just think about how well these papers are burning. It's what Hayashi would've wanted." She put one hand on her hip and glanced down at her watch. "Now if only the others were here to see it..."

* * *

 

Yoyo entered the garage and looked around. "Anyone here?" he asked.

No response. He shrugged it off and headed straight to his room, scrolling the missed messages on his communicator as he walked.  _Bonfire at the garage,_ a message from Corn read.

"Oh," Yoyo said to nobody in particular. "That explains it." He swung open the door to his room and began taking off his skates, exchanging them for a pair of worn-out sneakers. Beat wasn't there, but he thought nothing of it. Maybe he had just gone someplace close, or was in another room entirely. He glanced at his small dresser, overflowing and nearly falling apart. Beat's, however, looked impeccably organized and meticulous, like it was straight from some furniture catalog. 

His eyes flitted down to the floor next to the bed, where an empty bottle laid on its side.

"Hello, what's this?" Yoyo muttered, crouching down and removing his sunglasses to examine the bottle. As soon as it hit him, his stomach dropped, then filled with seething rage. "You've gotta be kidding me, yo."

He stomped out of the room, but not before hiding the bottle in the kitchen.

* * *

 

Beat and Cube headed into the garage, cutting through to the backyard. Corn, Gum, and Yoyo stood by the fire, talking about something. Beat could barely make out a word of it. It didn't help that the conversation ceased fire as soon as he got closer. He didn't catch much of it - something about files and somebody's balcony? Beat shrugged it off.

"Hey, Yoyo!" he said, smiling. He began to give Yoyo a hug, but the feelings weren't returned.

Yoyo glanced up from where he had been sitting, but just for a moment before his eyes flitted back down. "Oh, hi, Beat. So nice of you to finally come home."

"What? I was maybe gone an hour." Beat's eyes darted, not wanting to continue his story. It would be too much. Right now, he just wanted to be with his friends and his boyfriend. "And you were gone, too."

Yoyo said nothing in response. Beat simply sat down next to him.

"What's all this stuff in the fire?" Cube asked from across the fire. "Smells kinda like burning paint."

Corn facepalmed and shot a quick glance to Yoyo through his fingers, as if to signal something.

"Oh!" Yoyo nearly leaped out of his seat at the chance to flex his lying abilities. "We decided to spray paint a bunch of newspapers before we burned them."

"Why's that?" Cube asked, accepting Yoyo's lie. "Not really the smartest thing to do. Especially 'cause of the fumes..."

"Uhhh... we wanted to test just how  _highly flammable_ that paint really is!" Gum suddenly interjected. She wasn't much of a skilled liar, but that was kinda true, right? "You should've seen how crazy those flames were earlier."

Cube nodded solemnly, looking as if she had just learned all the secrets of the universe.

Beat just chuckled and glanced at Yoyo. "Good one," he whispered. Yoyo may have been a man with a silver tongue, but Beat knew him well enough to catch him in any and every lie. Which he did. Often. He just didn't know the actual truth.

"What are you talking about?" Yoyo replied through gritted teeth.

"Y'know, that thing you said about the papers, like, two minutes ago?"

Yoyo just rolled his eyes and stood up, fists balled. He began heading back into the garage.

"So, besides this, what were you guys up to today?" Cube asked, eager to cut the sudden tension she sensed.

Corn tapped a finger to his chin. "Well... I played some video games and then decided to have this bonfire." And then he stopped himself. If he said anything more about what Gum had discovered, Beat would've actually exploded.

"That's cool. I was hanging out with Beat. I hadn't seen him in awhile, so it was a nice surprise," Cube replied.

"Oh my God, Beat went outside?" Corn joked. "And didn't immediately die?"

Beat smirked. "Very funny, Corn. I'm not as fragile as you think I am."

"Y'know I'm just yanking your chain, right?" Corn chuckled and moved closer to Beat. "You gotta lighten up, man!"

Wordlessly, Beat stood up and headed back into the garage. Corn immediately kicked himself in the shins. Had he been too rude? He and Beat always ragged on each other, but he never wanted to take things to extremes.

"We hung around in Shibuya Terminal," Cube continued. "Learned quite a bit about each other today."

Corn nodded, lost in his thoughts but still listening intently.

* * *

 

Yoyo stood in the garage, staring into the fridge with a glazed look his eyes. Maybe if he kept staring, something good would show up. A piece of leftover pizza. A glass of water. A soda. Literally anything to satiate the anger that burned inside. And the hunger.

The sound of Beat opening the door and entering didn't phase him. Yoyo instead closed the fridge and looked blankly at his boyfriend, words escaping him. What could he say? He had to talk to Beat about the drinking, but Beat was just so neurotic and fragile. Any criticism, no matter how important it was, wouldn't do anything. Beat might say he was going to change. He might cry, begging on his knees for forgiveness. He might go cold turkey for a week before grabbing the cheapest rum he could from the corner store and hiding it under the bed, only drinking when he had a bad day (which felt like every day). It was totally cyclical, and Yoyo wanted to break that cycle already.

"Beat, I wanted to talk to you about something," Yoyo said softly, sitting at the table across from Beat and folding his hands. The overhead light cast a spooky shadow, adding the feeling of interrogation to the conversation. And in true interrogative fashion, Yoyo procured the empty bottle and placed it on the table.

Beat gnawed on his bottom lip and felt sweat begin to bead on his brow. "Yoyo, I-" he began. He loosened the bandanna from his neck and began fidgeting with it. "I don't know what to say."

"You never do."

"I really don't." Beat looked up at the ceiling, blinking as fast as humanly possible to prevent tears from falling down his cheeks. He was actually starting to feel better today, but this really was the last thing he needed. What he needed now after the drinking and the crying and the socialization was sleep.

"When did you get this bottle?" Yoyo asked.

"Um, I really don't remember."

Yoyo raised an eyebrow.

Beat gulped. "Last week."

"And it's gone already."

Beat began fidgeting faster. "I shared some with Corn."

"Corn doesn't drink. You should know this." Yoyo began to stand up and head back outside.

"Wait!" Beat yelled, suddenly rising from his chair and immediately falling to his knees. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

"You're just sorry you got caught," Yoyo mumbled, continuing to walk away.

"I mean it. I hate being like this so much. I just wanted to feel better today." Beat forced a smile and stood up. "And today was pretty good! I got out and actually socialized."

Yoyo sighed. "That's new. Maybe if you did that more, you wouldn't need to drink to feel better."

Beat was silent. Yoyo turned on his heel and headed straight to the bedroom instead. The door slammed behind him.

A few minutes later, the door flew open. Yoyo burst out, looking angrier than Beat had ever seen him.

"You're wasting your  _entire fucking life_ hiding in that bedroom, thinking that everything is going to kill you. It's been  _two years._ I know all that bad stuff happened, but it's over and things are actually improving for all of us in this stupid town! I'm surprised you could leave that bed today, and at first I was proud, but finding out that you drank just to get there makes me so frustrated." He took a moment to run a finger through his green hair. "One of these days, I'm not gonna be here to kiss all your wounds and check in with you. I'm not your dad, I'm your boyfriend. You're twenty-one years old. Act like it."

The door slammed again, rattling back into place. The sound echoed through Beat's ears as he sat on the floor, silently letting tears fall down his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHOA HOLY SHIT  
> Take this more lighthearted JSR fic because writing this gave me whiplash and I'm sure reading it will too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19421686/chapters/46219915


	6. I Love Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back :-)

The weight of Yoyo's words was too much to bear. Beat felt trapped, as if everything Yoyo had said was the equivalent of a giant anvil, pinning him down. Beat just couldn't pick himself up, instead finding solace face down in the carpet.

Every part of his body shook with each silent sob. Where could he have gone so wrong? He was happy. Alcohol made him happy. He had a great day, and it was all ruined. Of course Beat felt bad that alcohol seemed to be the only thing keeping him even remotely sane and happy, but who was Yoyo to try and take that away, anyway? Beat would want Yoyo to have fun, right?

This happened all the time. Beat wanted to change. He needed to. He wanted to be the way he was before the incident, full of optimism and always down for anything. Watching his friends get killed years ago must have activated his panic button and kept it turned on at all times. The only thing that managed to pause that panic was substances. Of course, Yoyo definitely helped, but he wasn't nearly as powerful as corner store rum. Nothing was.

Beat's legs shook as he tried to get himself back on his feet. He had to fix this somehow. He had to let Yoyo know that he meant it. No part of his body felt like he deserved to, however, because his legs kept wanting to give way below him with every step.

It felt like hours before he made it to his room, somehow out of breath and still shaking. Beat turned the doorknob, but nothing happened. The door was locked.

He knocked twice, a nervous smile spreading across his face. "Yoyo, uhhh... Can you let me in?"

No response. He knocked again.

"Please? I wanna talk to you."

The silence grew louder. He knocked three times, then waited.

"I mean... If you're still mad at me you've got every right, but-"

His melodrama was interrupted by Yoyo swinging the door wide open wordlessly. Beat stepped inside and took a seat on the bed, crossing his legs. Yoyo followed.

"Yoyo, listen," Beat began, still feeling his legs shake from where he sat. "I know you don't want to listen to me, and I know you're mad, but I'm going to change."

Yoyo cocked an eyebrow. "You say that every time this happens."

"And I mean it every time."

"Really? Then why do you keep slipping up? Why are you just giving me lip service and not even putting in the effort?" Yoyo sighed a deep sigh. "Look, you can't keep saying you're gonna try without actually doing it, yo. Something has seriously got to give." He smiled a half-smile and grabbed Beat's hands, assuring Beat that this was all out of love. "I really want you to try. I'm not mad as much as I am worried about you, and I'm sorry I came off so angry. It hurts me because I love you so much and I don't want to see you like this."

"I love you too. And I don't want to see me like this, either." Beat slipped off his gloves, feeling his hands grow sweatier. He grimaced and wiped them off on his jeans. "I didn't wake up one day and decide I was going to be a neurotic alcoholic freak who's too scared to even step outside. Everyone around here thinks I did, though."

"That's not true at all," Yoyo said softly, pulling the now-sniffling Beat into a hug.

"I'm the reason why everything bad went down," Beat muttered, speaking fully into Yoyo's shoulder. "If I wasn't Goji's stupid son, none of this would've happened. If I had just stayed in line and inherited the business, or even kept up that lie that I wasn't a boy-"

Yoyo cut him off. "We can go into the what-ifs and what could have beens all day. It goes nowhere. The past is the past, and it sucks, but there are no do-overs. It's not like a video game, y'know. What matters now is what you do to shape the future."

Beat said nothing, but Yoyo felt the sentiment nonetheless.

"And besides, if you had inherited the business, you'd be miserable. If you hadn't come out, we probably would've never met and you'd have been even more miserable," Yoyo continued. "But I'm glad you're who you are."

Beat laughed a bit and pulled his head up. "I'm glad I am, too. I'm so grateful for you." He gave Yoyo a kiss on the cheek and wiped the fresh tears from his boyfriend's jacket.

"I just want you to mean it when you say you're going to change. And there's no shame in asking for help. I'm going to be here for you as long as you need me." Yoyo grabbed Beat's shoulders and stared into his brown eyes, which were slightly puffy from the tears that still fell. But these were happy tears, Yoyo realized, as Beat had been smiling. Yoyo smiled back and kissed him.

The one kiss became two, then four, then eight. Then they were making out, grinning their dorky mischievous grins and rustling through each other's hair, just like the day they fell in love.

"I guess I hadn't been completely honest with you earlier," Yoyo admitted in between two kisses.

"About what?" Beat asked, brushing a stray green hair away from Yoyo's face.

"What Gum and I did earlier," Yoyo replied, sinking into the bed. "Well, more of what she did."

Beat laid next to him and took in every word.

"Oh, man. Corn didn't wanna tell you this because he was worried you'd freak, but basically Gum ended up on Hayashi's balcony."

Beat stared blankly. "Holy shit."

"Yeah. He invited her in and everything. Said he was quitting the police force and gave her all of his documentation. So we were burning all of that, not newspapers like we had said earlier."

"Whoa. That really happened?"

"Well, I wasn't there with her, but sure enough, she had gotten her hands on it somehow. Hayashi wanted us to give it an 'honorable death' or something, so Corn had that bonfire."

"So, lemme get this straight," Beat began. "The guy responsible for killing other rudies, chasing them with a gun, using military enforcement to catch us, patrolling cities almost daily, and nearly killing me has now decided he was gonna go full pacifist?"

Yoyo nodded. "I'm not gonna believe it 'til I see it, but he seemed pretty legit. Gum told me Hayashi has been corrupted by the police force and just wanted to do good from the start. He's pretty scarred by what they forced him to do."

"Well, all cops are bastards by nature, but I agree. Nothing for me will change until I see it. He's always going to have that bad reputation regardless."

"I agree. I just know things are finally looking up." Yoyo smiled and tucked his hands behind his head. "I'm just gonna take it all with a grain of salt."

"Me, too." Beat pulled the blanket over his body and closed his eyes.

"So you're not mad?" Yoyo asked. "I guess we all thought you would be."

Beat scoffed. "Worried? Maybe a little at first. But mad? Not at all." He sighed. "I should've known Corn was right, though."

"Right about what?"

"He said things were gonna get better. With the police and all that," Beat replied. "You'd think after four years I'd learn not to question Corn. I mean, dude invented magnetic skates and built a whole robot! He's kind of a genius. He knows everything."

Yoyo nodded. "Everything except how to beat that damn video game he's been stuck on for months." He began laughing.

Beat joined him in laughing, moving his body closer and offering some of the blanket's warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does the bottom of ur foot ever itch and it makes u feel like the world is ending


End file.
